


whatever you need

by achilleees_tua



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Adult Number Five | The Boy, Aged-Up Character(s), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Canon Rewrite, Episode Related, M/M, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:28:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26077207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/achilleees_tua/pseuds/achilleees_tua
Summary: At this proximity, the effect is unmistakable.“You’re inheat,”Five says, mouth open.“Yeah, tell me something I don’t know, genius,” Diego says.
Relationships: Number Five | The Boy/Diego Hargreeves
Comments: 47
Kudos: 310





	whatever you need

**Author's Note:**

> canon rewrite starting from s2e1. five's body is aged up, imagine early-20s.
> 
> this is somewhat of a subversion of common omegaverse tropes, so if you're looking for docile pregnant omegas, you won't find that here.
> 
> a zillion thanks to electra for your help turning this fic into a finished product. couldn't have done it without you, babe. 
> 
> enjoy!!

“Five,” Diego says when they lead him into the room.

“Hey, Diego,” says Five. He looks Diego over. “You look good in—“

He sits bolt upright when Diego takes the seat across from him. 

It’s not just Diego’s scent that silences him, although his fragrance hits like an electric charge, leaving Five’s nerves misfiring in the aftermath, heady and exhilarating even after the shock fades.

It’s not just the look of him, keyed-up and strung-out, pupils huge and cheeks flushed. Not the way his swagger across the room has the guards’ eyes locked on his hips, or the stretched-out collar of the shirt he’s been tugging on. It’s not a tangible thing that has Five biting his tongue.

It’s all of it, and more. It’s a knowledge that Five doesn’t remember acquiring, like the details of a book he never read. Diego is the taste of fresh fruit he spent years in the apocalypse trying to recall; he’s a color off the edge of the visible spectrum; he’s a metaphysical anomaly with fuck-me lips and shoulders that stretch the seams of his prison t-shirt.

At this proximity, the combined effect is unmistakable. 

“You’re in _heat,”_ Five says, mouth open.

“Yeah, tell me something I don’t know, genius,” Diego says. His posture is open, the tilt of his head an invitation. 

He looks _good_ in white. 

“You’re an omega?” Five says. 

“That’s not something I don’t know,” Diego says.

“Since when were you an omega?” 

“What about basic biology do you not understand?” Diego says. “I’m a little too busy to give you a refresher course, but—“

“I always thought…” Five falls silent, thinking back. All seven of them are alphas, it came with the package. He can’t reconcile that truth to the perfume of Diego’s heat filling the room.

“Yeah, well, 75 days without suppressants cleared up that pretext but good,” Diego says, knee jiggling. “Didn’t you come here to talk about something important?”

“The apocalypse,” Five says, still reeling from this new awareness.

Diego snorts. “Why do I even ask?”

“I’m serious,” Five says. “It followed us from the future. Are people bothering you here?” He doesn’t like the way the guard is eyeing Diego.

Diego smirks. “Like I can’t handle that. So what’s the deal with apocalypse 2.0?”

“Diego,” Five says.

“Five,” Diego says.

“Has anyone tried anything?” Five says, voice lower.

He can see the way Diego’s pupils dilate at his tone, but Diego’s voice is even when he responds, “I’m used to sleeping with a knife.”

Fury floods Five like a rush of scalding hot water. He leans forward, the guards tensing at the abrupt motion before settling back. “I’ll fucking—”

“How’d you find me here?” Diego interrupts.

Five reluctantly leans back, soothed despite himself by Diego’s equanimity. He fishes the scrap of newspaper out of his jacket pocket, discomfited at how thoroughly his preparation for this encounter has failed him. Laughable, that he’d planned what he would say — that he thought he would set the tone. “You were arrested outside Lee Harvey Oswald’s house. Not much one for keeping a low profile, hm?”

“I’ve got beef,” Diego says. “You have your things, I have mine.”

“My things take precedence,” Five says.

“Maybe saving JFK is the key to stopping the apocalypse.”

“Maybe you’re pulling that out of your ass.”

“Can you definitively say I’m wrong?”

Five hesitates.

“I’m saving JFK,” Diego says stubbornly.

“Christ,” Five says, genuinely considering leaving him there — keeping him safe and out of trouble until Five comes back to pick him up when he has a better plan and more reasonable siblings on his team. “You’d damn the world for the sake of your hero complex?”

“Fuck that,” Diego says. “You’re the one choosing to frame it that way. I have no reason to think I can’t have both.”

Five grinds his teeth, displeased that Diego isn’t entirely wrong. “Mine comes first,” he says.

“Yeah, yeah, you always come first, I get it,” Diego says, rolling his eyes and stretching.

“Well,” Five says, eyes caught on the curve of Diego’s throat. “Not always.”

Diego gives a surprised laugh. It’s a gorgeous sound, and Five’s stomach gives a not-unpleasant quiver.

Behind Diego, the guard gives a jolt, evidently caught in Diego’s thrall as much as Five is. “Alright, Hargreeves, back in your room,” he says, striding forward and taking Diego by the arm.

“I’m coming,” Diego says.

He stands — evidently not fast enough, because the guard gives a jerk that unbalances him, sending Diego tripping into his body. 

Five’s out of his seat so quickly even he isn’t sure if he teleported to get there. “Don’t touch him,” he says.

The guard doesn’t even bother answering as he pulls Diego away, and Diego looks back at Five, rolling his eyes. “I’m fine,” he says. He’s clearly trying to communicate something with his gaze, eyes intent, but the red film of rage over Five’s vision keeps him from understanding what.

“I said,” he says, “don’t _touch_ him.”

The guard shouts when Five teleports in front of him, releasing Diego to grab for his electroshock baton, and Five grabs Diego by the arm and warps him outside and away from the men who think they have a right to lay a finger on him.

Diego staggers, gagging. “Think I’m gonna throw up,” he says.

Five steadies him with a hand on his arm. His skin is burning hot under Five’s thumb.

Diego shivers and shifts him off. “Well, shit,” he says, looking around with a grin. “You’re a handy little wizard to keep around. Pocket magician.”

“Come on, we should put some distance between us and—“ Five looks back at the asylum. “I have somewhere we can go.”

“Alone?” Diego says.

The word shoots a pulse through Five, followed by a flare of possessiveness when he thinks of Elliot seeing Diego like this. He talks himself down — Elliot’s a beta, and more than that, he’s a harmless insular weirdo who believes that Five’s an alien, the farthest possible thing from a threat. 

“Close enough,” he says, and pulls Diego forward.

“Aw, hell—!“ Diego says, stumbling into the blue portal.

Elliot complicates matters slightly by pointing a gun at them when they climb the stairs. “Where did you get the film? The Frankel footage?” he says, eyes wild.

In a second, Five is on him forcing the gun out of his grip — in another, he’s at Elliot’s back with a kitchen knife at his throat. “Do not,” he says, voice calm over Elliot’s sputtering, “point that at my brother.”

“Jesus, Five,” Diego says, shaking his head with a smirk. “Ease up.”

“Just establishing some ground rules,” Five says, releasing Elliot and warping back to Diego with the gun.

Diego takes the rifle from him, popping out the magazine and emptying it on the ground. “If you think I don’t know what this is about—“

“And what’s that?”

“Don’t play dumb with me,” Diego says, voice low. _“Alpha.”_

Five’s brain washes white in a haze.

“See?” Diego says, flicking a bullet at him, Five’s hand flashing up to grab it before it can hit him between the eyes.

Elliot’s gaze swings between them.

“Maybe you’re not entirely wrong,” Five says. He looks at Elliot and adds conversationally, “He’s taking your bedroom, by the way.”

In Elliot’s bedroom, Diego lets out a heavy breath and sits down hard on the bed. “Jesus,” he says, rubbing his hands over his face. 

Without the overpowering clinical scent of the asylum or the influx of stimuli from outside, Five is struck all over again by the intoxicating seduction of Diego’s heat.

He fishes his handkerchief out of his pocket, offering it to Diego. He’s never done this before, but he’s read about how a familiar alpha’s scent can soothe an unsettled omega and he figures it can’t hurt. “Here.”

Diego shoots him a wary look, but he takes it, bringing it to his face and relaxing as he breathes in. “Christ,” he says.

Five drags up a chair across from him. “Whatever you need—“

“I need you to stop handling me with kid gloves,” Diego says, muffled into the fabric. “That’s what I need.”

“You’re being stubborn,” Five says. “I can—“

“Help?” Diego says, pulling the handkerchief away and pointedly dropping his gaze into Five’s lap.

Five manages not to cover the bulge of his erection with his hand, but just barely. If his body is going to react to Diego’s presence with instinctive, low-simmering arousal, he’s not going to let himself act shy about it. “You don’t know how good you smell like this,” he says lowly. “It’s not something I can control.”

“I know how good _you_ smell like this,” Diego says. “Note that I’m managing to resist spreading my legs anyway, Romeo.”

“So — you’re going to white-knuckle through it just to prove a point about self-control?” Five says. “Is that really what this is about?”

Diego laughs mockingly. “You expected me to just bend over?”

Five considers with some discomfort the answer that pops immediately to mind.

“My body’s telling me to put out,” Diego says. “My brain isn’t.”

“Doesn’t that hurt after too long?” Five asks. “I’ve read about heat neglect.”

Diego shifts in his seat. “Mind over matter, baby.”

He’s a stubborn idiot, but that’s always been true. Five stands. “If you change your mind, say the word. For now, Elliot’s processed some footage for me. You might be interested.”

“I’m coming,” Diego says, climbing to his feet. “Here.” He offers Five the handkerchief back.

“Keep it,” Five says. 

Diego doesn’t argue, he notes. It feels significant.

_“What do you mean you don’t know, there’s an ‘on’ button. Just — There’s something over — that jigga-ma-thing, whatever— “_

“Christ,” Diego says, his knee jiggling. “Why are we watching this?”

“Shush,” Five says. 

In the chair he’s tied to, Elliot squirms.

_“ Just give it to me, give it to me, honey, just give it to me, I know how to do this, I know how to do this—“_

”Seriously—“ Diego says, looking at Five.

Five reaches without looking and pulls Diego down by the hair.

”Hey—!” Diego says, but once Five starts stroking his hair, he settles down, head cushioned on Five’s thighs. “Hey,” he says, less emphatically.

“Shush,” Five says, squeezing the back of Diego’s neck.

_“ I—I’m Dan Frankel and Edna Frankel and we are in Dallas, Texas, to see the president. Today’s date is November 22, 1963.”_

“Holy shit.” Diego moves to sit up, but Five holds him down, and Diego twists his body to see the film screen without picking up his head. “This is it — the Grassy Knoll. Kennedy’s about to get shot. How do you have this?”

“Hazel,” Five says absently.

“Hazel?”

Five waves his free hand.

“What exactly did he say to you?”

“Not much, he was killed before he could explain,” Five says, half his attention on the footage and half on Diego’s comfortable weight over his thighs. “But whatever he wanted us to see—“

Gunshots ring out on the film, and Five can’t keep Diego from bolting upright after that.

“Oswald,” he says grimly, but Five’s attention is caught by something more surprising.

“Oh, no,” he says when he sees their father on the screen. 

“Hey,” Diego says, catching Five’s arm as he copies over the address to D.S. Umbrella Company. “I’m coming with you.”

“I’m not going tonight,” Five says.

“Don’t avoid the point,” Diego says. “When you do go, I’m coming with you.”

“Maybe,” Five says.

_“Five —“_

“I’m not saying no.”

“You came for me in that nuthouse for my help,” Diego says. “What, that’s less useful to you now that you know I’m an omega?”

Five works his jaw, unable to quite deny it. 

“I don’t need your protection,” Diego says. “I can look out for myself.”

“That’s not exactly the issue.”

“Then what is?” Diego asks, shoving Five’s shoulder. 

“You’re a distraction I can’t afford,” Five says. “When you’re near me, I’m not thinking about the right things.”

“Jesus,” Diego says bitterly. “And that’s my fault? You’re punishing me for being, what, too tempting?” 

“I didn’t say that,“ Five says.

“Oh, bullshit.” Diego comes in closer, tilting his head and baring his neck at Five — and Five is helpless not to drop his gaze, mouth watering, teeth aching with the urge to bite. 

He jerks away, face flushing.

“Yeah,” Diego says. “That’s what I thought.” He inhales through his nose. “Being an omega doesn’t suck because of the heats,” he says. “You know that, right?”

Five winces. “Just give me a bit more time to get used to it, alright? Maybe by tomorrow…”

“Yeah,” Diego says, voice cold. “Maybe.”

It takes all of his willpower for Five to leave Diego alone in his room that night, and he stays awake for a while, unable to sleep with his awareness of Diego’s closeness pulsing in him like a second heartbeat. 

After some time, he gives up, warping into Diego’s room.

“Knock, bitch,” Diego says, unsurprised by Five’s characteristically unceremonious entrance. 

“You weren’t asleep,” Five says. 

“I could have been jerking off.”

Five knows this isn’t true, knows that omegas can’t stimulate themselves to completion under their heat — knows with every fiber of his being how Diego’s body is screaming to be indulged, cosseted, spoiled.

He glances down at Diego’s lap anyway, unable not to take the bait. “You weren’t.”

Diego sits up in bed, eyes gleaming in the dim light. “What do you want, Five?”

“I can hear you tossing and turning through the wall,” Five says.

Diego hums noncommittally.

Five hesitates, then thinks, _fuck it._ “Let me help you.”

“I don’t need your help,” Diego says.

“So you’re just not going to sleep for the next two days, is that right?” Five says. “I could get you off in ten minutes and you know it. If this is more of your lone wolf bullshit—“

“Is this your idea of sweet talk?” Diego says, lying back propped up on his elbows, his entire body stretched out long and lean, a goddamn feast for Five’s eyes. “Because you’re not making me want to put out, bro.”

Five looks at him. Past the irritation and need clawing at his insides, he finds himself impressed. “How are you doing this?”

Diego raises his eyebrows.

“I’ve seen omegas in heat before,” Five says. “They’re usually less… self-possessed.”

“They’re desperate, you’re saying,” Diego says.

Five nods.

“There’s your answer,” Diego says.

“What is?”

“I didn’t want to be desperate,” Diego says.

“And it’s that simple?”

Diego sighs, running a hand through his hair. “When I hit my first heat, I asked Dad for lessons in… emotional regulation. Hand to God, it’s the only time I’ve seen the old man look proud of me. Said it was a good idea, and started mixing lessons in with my normal training.”

“You’ve been suppressing your heats since you were 14?” Five says. 

He doesn’t mean it as an accusation, but Diego bristles. “What else was I supposed to do? Surrounded by all you alphas, in the Academy? You think I was gonna walk out there with that stutter and hold a press conference about being the token omega bitch of the squad?”

That same swell of protective fury rises in Five. “Don’t say that about yourself,” he snaps.

Diego rolls his eyes. “The nurturing shit. My absolute favorite.”

“Diego—” 

“Yeah, ask me again why I buried it,” Diego says.

Five narrows his eyes. “Do your principles help you sleep at night when your aching dick is too sensitive to touch?” he says. 

“Abso-fucking-lutely, baby,” Diego says, wearing that familiar crooked smirk.

It’s somehow worse the next day, Diego’s scent filling the space like a tangible thing when Five enters the kitchen area.

Diego’s fixing tea, his posture tight. “Don’t say anything,” he growls. He smells ripe for the picking, like he’d be so sweet if Five took a bite.

“Genuinely, does it hurt?” Five asks, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

“It’s… uncomfortable,” Diego says. “It’s like being hungry with a steak grilling in front of you.”

“An emptiness,” Five says.

Diego shoots him a warning look.

“I didn’t say anything,” Five says, eyes fixed on the visible skin bared by Diego’s unbuttoned collar. His skin is flushed.

“That’s tautologically inconsistent,” Diego says. “Shit, if I talk like a pretentious-ass college professor, is that going to turn you on more?”

Five laughs, and Diego looks pleased with himself. 

“So what’s the plan for the day?” Diego says. “Find the others or go find Dad first?”

“The others,” Five says, doing up his tie. “Don’t leave the house, hm?”

He already knows what reaction he’s going to get, and Diego doesn’t disappoint. “I’ll leave if I want to,” he says, flipping Five off.

“To stalk Lee Harvey Oswald some more?”

“Maybe I just wanna get laid, you ever think—“

Five’s snarling before Diego can finish the sentence, hands fisting in Diego’s shirt and shoving him back against the counter. 

There’s a moment of breathless anticipation, Diego’s glassy eyes locked on Five’s lips.

Then Diego shoves him off. “Prick,” he says, sounding more breathless than upset. “Go fuck yourself if you’re that hard up for it.”

Five drops his hand, skimming it down the side of Diego’s neck and over his shoulder. “Don’t leave the house,” he says.

Diego rolls his eyes. “Screw you,” he says.

Five decides to take it as an agreement.

He walks through the burlesque club where Luther works; immediately everyone at the near tables falls silent and turns to look at him.

He ignores them, picking his way across the room until he reaches Luther’s hulking form. 

“I told you, I’m not —” Luther starts to say, then he goes still, turning to Five. _“Five.”_

“Yes?” Five says. He looks at a staring serving girl. “Lagavulin, neat. Please,” he adds, when she just keeps staring.

“You’re in _heat,”_ Luther says, openly dumbstruck. 

“I’m not,” Five says.

“You are.”

“I assure you, I’m not.”

“Five—“

“This is tiresome,” Five says. “I didn’t come to talk to you about that.”

“You can’t expect me to think about anything else,” Luther says. “You smell…”

“Intoxicating, I’m aware,” Five says. “Thanks, love.” He smiles at the waitress, accepting the tumbler of scotch from her.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Luther says. “It’s—“

“Dangerous?” Five says, narrowing his eyes. No wonder Diego hates it, he thinks. “Please. It’s not me, anyway.”

“What do you mean?” Luther says, and then grabs Five’s collar with his huge paws, hauling him over and burying his face in Five’s neck to inhale deeply.

Five teleports out of his grasp, annoyed to be manhandled. The stares and murmurs from the surrounding tables increase tenfold, which he ignores. “Hands off.”

“It’s Diego,” Luther says wonderingly. “You found — Diego’s in heat.” His posture straightens. “Where is he? Is he safe?”

“Assuredly so,” Five says. “Can we move past this topic of conversation, as scintillating as you evidently find it?”

”Are you helping him through it?”

Five scowls. “He won’t let me.”

“Sounds like Diego,” Luther says. “Still, someone should do something.”

“Hey, nimrod, focus,” Five says, biting out the words. “I didn’t come here to talk to you about Diego. I came here to say I’m breaking into Reginald’s company tonight and I want you there with me. The apocalypse can’t wait. Jack Ruby can.”

“I’m done with that stuff, Five,” Luther says. “I told you. We’re better off leaving it alone.”

“That didn’t work out so well for you last time,” Five says, thinking of the whistle of falling bombs.

“Neither did interfering,” Luther says. “That’s not my problem anymore.”

“Of course it’s your problem,” Five says. “It’s all of our problem.”

“Fine, then if it’s the problem, I’m not the solution,” Luther says. His face creases with sudden concern. “What about Diego? You didn’t leave him alone, did you?”

Five growls and teleports out of the club, smoothing the wrinkles out of his shirt as he turns back in the direction of Elliot’s house. “Thanks for nothing, you hulking behemoth,” he mutters to himself.

Back at Elliot’s place, Five reaches the top of the stairs and pauses. Diego’s scent is even thicker, and there are restless little rustling sounds from the bedroom. 

Unable to resist, Five walks to the door, silent on the balls of his feet. He gives the handle a jiggle and it opens, the door creaking as he carefully edges it open a crack and peeks in.

Until that moment, he genuinely wasn’t certain how strongly Diego’s heat was affecting him. Sure, he was pouring off the scent of an omega in need, but he’d talked about emotional regulation and he seemed to have a fairly tight lid on it.

Finally, Five sees behind the curtain.

Diego’s propped on his knees, face mashed into the pillow with both hands lost in his disheveled hair. Five can’t see his eyes, but he can picture the torture in his expression from the taut clench of his spine, his muscles straining. His hips work in desperate little jolts — grinding his cock into the mattress? Christ, he is, isn’t he, seeking pressure even though it visibly _aches,_ little plaintive whimpers leaving him with every thrust —

No, Five realizes, it’s the opposite. Diego’s rocking _back_ , not forward. There’s a body behind him in his fevered fantasy, there’s someone with their knees jammed between his legs and their chest plastered to his back, leaning over his body, biting at the top vertebrae of his spine — he’s picturing having a cock in him, Five’s sure of it, gagging for the stretch of it, fucking himself back against empty air as his mind fills in the body that should be there.

Five’s body should be there, he thinks, pure animalist lust surging through him, rising like floodwaters, sweeping him away.

Diego has Five’s handkerchief mashed in his palm, he sees.

He staggers back, slamming the door shut, dragging his collar up over his face and placating himself with the lie that distance will ease the inferno that’s building under his skin.

A few minutes later, Diego finds him on the roof, leaning his elbows on the railing and looking out over the street.

“It doesn’t make me weak,” he says, and Five can’t tell if it’s shame or irritation coloring his voice.

“I know,” says Five.

“Nah, fuck you,” Diego says. “I don’t need your condescending shit — I don’t need you to tell me what you think I want to hear.”

“Diego,” Five says. “It doesn’t make you weak.”

Diego narrows his eyes. 

“You should come with me to D.S. Umbrella,” Five says. “I could use a second pair of eyes.”

If anything, Diego gets more suspicious, jaw clenching and eyes narrowing further still. “Are you—“

“Jesus, I’m not patronizing you,” Five says. “I want you as my backup. You’re the one who wanted to come.”

“I do,” Diego says. “But — what changed? Before, you were all _Diego, don’t leave the house,_ now you’re inviting me with you?” Realization dawns on him, eyes widening. “Hang on, if this is because you think it’s safer for me to stay with you, or some—“

Five laughs a little. “You’re paranoid.”

“You’re not the first alpha who thought he needed to babysit me,” Diego says, but his shoulders relax.

 _Who else would dare,_ Five thinks. “That’s not it,” he says aloud. “I just…” He thinks about it, wanting to get the phrasing right. “You’re desperate, aren’t you? It’s burning you up from the inside, isn’t it?”

“I can handle it,” Diego says hotly.

“Exactly,” Five says. “You’re _that_ desperate, and you keep it under control that well. That kind of poise is noteworthy. Credit where credit is due.”

He can feel Diego’s gaze against the side of his face. 

“Are you serious?” Diego says.

“I respect competence,” Five says, lighting another cigarette. The first one hadn’t been quite enough to banish Diego’s scent from his mind. 

“What about me being distracting?” Diego says.

Five smiles a little. “I’d be pretty pathetic if I couldn’t handle a bit of distraction.”

“Oh, you think you can handle me?” Diego says, reaching out and flicking Five’s forehead, his scent flooding Five’s senses in a dizzying rush.

He’s never going to be immune to it, Five knows in that moment, shifting to adjust the weight of his dick trapped in his pants. “We’ll see,” he says.

Diego grumbles when Five shoves him up the stairs, still recovering from getting his ass kicked by Reginald. Only Five’s protective — over-protective, probably — eye had prevented him from taking a knife to the gut. “I could have taken him,” Diego says.

“He almost stabbed you,” Five says. “I’m not going to apologize for interfering for the sake of your delicate ego.”

“He cheap-shotted me,” Diego says. “Bitch move.” He glares at Five. “Don’t get smug.”

“I’m always smug,” Five says. “That has nothing to do with you being an omega.”

“Fair enough,” Diego says, jerking when Five’s fingers brush his bare skin. “I could have taken him.”

“Well, that’s demonstrably false,” Five said.

Diego glares.

“You can’t say _I could have taken him_ two minutes after he came millimeters from shanking your discount Batman ass,” Five said. “You did not take him. QED, you could not have taken him.”

“He cheap-shotted me!”

“You can curve projectiles, your entire life is a cheap shot,” Five says, herding Diego into the bedroom. “You’ve already gotten your ass kicked today, don’t make it worse by adding hypocrisy to your list of failings.”

“Maybe you should add being a smug little twink to _your_ list of failings.”

“That’s not a failing, it’s a gift,” Five says absently. He pushes Diego so the back of his knees hit the bed and he sinks onto the mattress. “How do you feel?”

Diego looks up at him. “You know he didn’t actually stab me, right? You made sure of that, if you recall.”

“That’s not an answer,” Five says.

Diego sighs, dropping his head and linking his fingers behind his neck. “The last day is always the worst.”

Five grimaces.

“Makes me fidgety and stupid,” Diego says. “I can’t even think, it’s just—“ He gestures vaguely.

Five snorts.

Diego recoils. “Wow,” he says, audibly hurt. “Good time to laugh at me, jackass.”

“I’m not laughing at you,” Five says. “I just find it amusing that you think you’re unique here.”

“Yeah, me and all the other desperate omega cockwarmers,” Diego says bitterly.

“No, dumbass,” Five says. 

Diego looked at him, brow furrowed in confusion.

“Do you seriously need this spelled out?” Five says. “I mean me.”

“What?” Diego says.

“You’re killing me,” Five says. “I’m supposed to be thinking about saving the world, and all I can concentrate on is…” He waves to Diego, the same loose gesture Diego had just made.

“Really?” Diego says.

Five drops his gaze. “You took over my brain,” he says quietly. For a man of Five’s intellect, it’s the hardest thing to admit.

Diego’s breath hitches.

Five inhales, conscious of the scant distance between them, and equally conscious of how much Diego resents the electric tension that sparks in the air between them. “I should leave you.”

“Yeah,” Diego says, sounding a little dazed.

Diego comes out of his room and stops dead when he sees Five tying his shoes. “Where are you going?”

Five looks up. “To pick up dinner. What are you in the mood for?”

“I thought Elliot was cooking,” Diego says.

Five looks across the table at Elliot.

“He says I’m not allowed,” Elliot says, sulking. “He won’t even give it a try.”

“What were you gonna make?” Diego asks.

“Creamy tomato aspic,” Elliot says.

“What’s that, some kind of soup?” Diego says.

“It’s savory gelatin,” Elliot says in a tone of wounded dignity. “It’s delicious.”

Diego looks at Five.

“It’s tuna Jell-O,” Five says.

Diego gags. “Tacos,” he says quickly. “Burgers. Fried chicken. Anything but that.”

“Philistine,” Elliot says.

Five stands up, slinging on his jacket. “Be back soon.”

“Don’t get yourself into too much trouble out there,” Diego says.

Five half-smiles. “I’ll do my best.”

His breath hitches when Diego reaches up and tugs at a lock of his hair. Even after this much time to grow accustomed, Diego’s proximity has the same intoxicating effect on him every time. “Hurry back.”

“I will,” Five says, looking up at him, wondering and wanting.

Five has been sleeping on the couch in the main room. Diego should have the bed, and he’s not _so_ ill-mannered a guest to demand the guest room from Elliot, even if he forced him out of his own bedroom. The couch is comfortable enough, anyway, and Five is accustomed to worse. And if some part of it is so that Five can hear if anyone tries to come in — or leave — in the middle of the night, he doesn’t tell Diego.

So when he hears Diego’s door creak open, he wakes up instantly, eyes cracking open into slits.

Diego pauses in the doorway of his room, hesitating. Five can only see the silhouette of his body in the night, but he’s facing Five — likely trying to gauge if he’s awake, and Five thinks, _Yeah, just try sneaking out, buddy._

But Diego exhales slowly and walks over to him instead.

Five’s breath catches in his throat, going still. By the time Diego reaches him, his eyes are fully open.

“Well?” says Diego. “Are you coming?”

Five stands.

“I can try—” Five says, his voice already hoarse as he undresses Diego. “I can try to tone it down.”

Diego arches his hips, letting Five peel off his underwear. “You mean…”

“Fuck you like normal,” Five says. He’s already losing his grasp of language, which doesn’t bode well on that front, but — for Diego’s sake, he’ll try. “Not like heat-sex. Not like an alpha.”

Diego wraps his hand around Five’s wrist. “Fuck that, man. Do it. Show me what the fuss is about.”

Five looks at him, knowing his pupils are blown wide. “Does that mean you’ve never done it?”

“I’ve gotten fucked,” Diego says. “I’ve never been…”

Five groans, leaning in and nosing at the exposed curve of his throat. “I’ll show you what the fucking fuss is about, baby.”

“Baby?” Diego says, smiling a little. “I thought I was the one with the pet names.”

“Christ, I’d call you by a thousand pet names if you let me,” Five says, more honest than he means to be. Diego’s big dark eyes are bewitching him, loosening his tongue.

Diego visibly lights up. “Like what?”

“Angel,” Five says, kissing his neck. “Honey.” He kisses between Diego’s pectorals. “Darling.” A lick over Diego’s nipple. “Treasure.” He looks up into Diego’s eyes as he swirls his tongue around the other nipple. “Pretty boy with the big shark eyes.”

Diego’s breath leaves him in a rush. 

“Oh, fuck, fuck—“ Diego says, arching up.

Five has Diego’s cock in his mouth, teasing the slit with little flicks of his tongue, not stopping until Diego shakes the whole bed with his shudders. He hums, rolling Diego’s balls in his hand and making him shout.

_“Fuck—!”_

“You taste good,” Five purrs, mouthing messily against the underside of his cock. 

Diego whimpers, writhing in place, eyes desperate as he looks down at Five through the sweaty strands of his bangs. “Five—“

“You want me in you, don’t you?” Five says.

Diego nods jerkily. 

“Unfortunate,” Five says. “Those pretty noises you’re making don’t provide me with much incentive to stop. I’d stay here forever, if you kept making them.”

Diego stuffs his knuckles into his mouth, doing his best to stifle the little whines that escape him.

Five chuckles, endeared. “Oh, you _do_ want it,” he says, moving up him and grinding his cock against Diego’s thigh. “You want it badly, don’t you, pretty pet?”

“Nnnyeah,” Diego says, muffled into his fist.

Five smiles. “Ask for it and I’ll give it to you.”

“Your _dick,_ fucker, give it,” Diego says.

Five lowers his mouth to Diego’s ear. “Ask _nicer.”_

“Ahhh, shit,” Diego says, cock leaking even more, so easy for Five’s rumbling voice. “Fuck me, Jesus, put it in me, knot me, what do you want me to say?”

 _Christ._ “Oh, I think that will do,” Five says. He draws back reluctantly, looking around.

Diego props himself on his elbows. “What are you looking for?”

“Something to use as lube.”

“Hey, genius boy,” Diego says, grabbing Five’s chin and turning his face towards him. “What about heat-sex are you not getting?”

Five’s own dick twitches, eyes widening as realization strikes. “Right,” he says roughly.

“Oh, fuuuuuuck,” Diego says, the groan torn out of him as Five presses his dick inside. His back flexes, shoulders drawn tight.

“Christ,” Five says, feeling dazed and drunken himself. 

Diego doesn’t feel like Five’s fucking him without any preparation. He’s loose enough to bottom out without trouble, slick on the inside, and hot as an open flame. Being inside him is like sinking into quicksand, and Five never wants to climb out.

“Shit shit shit,” Diego says, grabbing onto the headboard so tightly the wood creaks audibly under his fingers. “Shit!”

Five leans low over Diego’s back. “Feel like showing off for me, angel?”

Diego looks over his shoulder, eyes wide and wet. “Nn, how?”

“Why don’t you fuck yourself on my cock for a while?” Five says. “Until I feel like taking over.” He moved back, resting on his heels.

There’s no hesitation, not a second’s pause before Diego starts circling his hips in needy, tight circles. “You like the — view, huh?”

“You don’t even know,” Five says, dropping his gaze and watching Diego’s gorgeous ass jiggle as he rocks up and down on it. “Even if you weren’t an omega, there’d be people lined up in the goddamn, _ah,_ street begging to get a crack at it.”

“Damn straight,” Diego says, sounding pleased, and he plants his hand on the headboard for leverage and starts really working his hips, an obscene undulation up and down the full length of Five’s cock, utterly captivating.

Five groans. 

“Anytime you get your brain back, alpha, you can — take over,” Diego says. 

It’s both the casually dropped _alpha_ and the smugness in Diego’s tone that have Five clamping his hands into Diego’s hips, thumbs settling neatly in the dimples flanking his spine.

“It’s back,” he says, and starts to move, setting a hard pace from the start, knowing that Diego can handle it.

Diego falls to fucking pieces, sinking onto his elbows, head dropping between his arms. “Oh, _fu_ -uck,” he says, the word protracted into two distinct syllables, decadent as the finest liquor in his fucked-out voice. “Nnh, Christ—!”

Five slams forward, letting Diego feel the full force of his contained strength, shifting the bed frame into the wall with an audible thud with every thrust. “You need it, don’t you?” he says, voice rich with an alpha’s command.

Diego moans, body rocking with every thrust, pliant as a doll. 

“You don’t have to say it, I know it’s true,” Five says. 

“Nnh, yeah, yeah—“ Diego says, voice thick, and when Five reaches forward and turns his face, his eyes are shiny-bright with unshed tears. Every fucking thing about him is debauched, and every fucking thing about him is Five’s.

“Anytime you need it, I’ll — give it to you, it’s yours, anything you ask me for, I’ll give it to you — you _own_ it—“ Five says, clamping his fingers tight on Diego’s hips to keep from throwing him forward from the force.

Diego cries out, ass clenching around Five’s cock as he comes without warning, seeming transported — his expression in a state beyond rapture, his entire body going deliciously, viciously tight as he comes, hips bucking, spilling onto the sheets.

Five strokes a hand down his spine, feeling the aftershocks rippling through him. “Good boy,” he murmurs.

Diego chuckles breathlessly. “Look,” he says, glancing back over his shoulder. Five can’t see his mouth from his position, but his eyes are crinkled like he’s smiling. “You didn’t come first.”

Five gives a little laugh. “I didn’t,” he agrees. He moves in, latching his teeth onto Diego’s shoulder and biting down. “Pretty babe,” he says, warm with pleasure. 

“Do it,” Diego says, craning his head back and biting at Five’s lower lip in return. “Alpha.”

Five’s hips start moving again without any direction from his brain; Diego’s voice has him on marionette strings. His need hasn’t subsided in the slightest from the brief pause — if anything, he’s even closer to coming. 

His world comes to a point, heat and sensation and Diego’s addictive scent, how _right_ he feels, how he’d goddamn destroy anyone who tried to take this away from him. He’s been an alpha all his life, but only in that moment does he understand what it means to be one.

He looks down at his hands, realizing belatedly that they’re vibrating — no, that Diego’s vibrating, resonating through his entire body and up Five’s hands. 

Diego’s _purring._

Five’s release is a white-hot flame, burning through him, turning his body to ash.

Diego looks up at Five from where his head is pillowed on FIve’s chest. “Hey,” he says. “There is something you could do for me.”

“Anything,” Five says, meaning it. 

“Anything?”

“Anything,” Five says, stroking back Diego’s sweaty hair and pressing a kiss to his forehead.

Diego smirks. “Help me save JFK.”

Five walked into that one, he thinks, and sighs. “We can talk in the morning.”

Diego rolls over him, pressing him to the mattress and leaning in to kiss him hard. “Good boy,” he says, teeth flashing with his smile.

**Author's Note:**

> come talk to me on [my new tua tumblr!](https://achilleees-tua.tumblr.com/) if you talk to me now on anon i'll actually answer, so please feel free to come chat tua or give me any prompts, my inbox is open~


End file.
